


My Prince, My Son, My King

by JenniM777



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, King Lance - Freeform, Knight Keith, M/M, War, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 11:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniM777/pseuds/JenniM777
Summary: Based off of BleuSarcelle's work Last Sunrise and for her Last Sunrise contest on IG. If you haven't read her story or any of her works they are amazing. Go Now!!!!





	My Prince, My Son, My King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BleuSarcelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuSarcelle/gifts).



Every kingdom goes through seasons. Not the normal seasons where the leaves change or the air turns crisp and cold but seasons of peace and of war. Once again the kingdom of Oceana had seen a season of war and the King trudged through the castle that was now more rubble than the great stone fortress it had once been. Even amidst all of the destruction he was glad that the loss of life was so few, though the few that were lost were devastating. He stood in the grand throne room staring at the wreckage and the two thrones that had once stood so proud side by side were nothing more than broken splinters of wood. He let out a heavy sigh and just as he was about to start some sort of cleaning a pair of voices caught his attention.

“Papa! Come see what I found!”

“NO Lessana! I found it, I want to ask him.”

“Shut up Kit I’m older.”

“No one cares. Papa I found it first. Come see!”

The King made his way down the corridor mindful of the rubble and those already cleaning before he found the room his children were in. The youngest, a boy with pale blue eyes that rivaled the sky and a mop of unruly brown curls smiled. “Look at this! I’ve never seen this painting before. Who is it?”

The King gasped when Lessana and Kit turned the large ornate frame around and a pair of dark eyes stared back at him. He knelt down and touched a hand to the painting and was suddenly trapped in a sea of memories long forgotten.

**Part One - My Prince:**

“My Prince.”

It’s the first words he remembers from the man he’s only heard of in stories. Florian is only five when he meets him so he’s sure his memory is off but it’s the first he remembers. He’s not even sure what the memory is about, just a vague recollection of Sir Keith in uniform a sword at his hip and eyes as dark as an incoming storm watching him.

It wasn’t the first time Sir Keith ever said those words to him nor would it be the last, but they are words that were never said with anything other than the utmost respect deserving of a prince no matter how young he may be. And that was the thing he remembered most about Sir Keith even at such a young age, the Knight his father had entrusted to protect his son always talked to Florian with kindness, with respect, with pride. So many others that Florian remembers spoke down to him because he was only a young boy, but never Sir Keith.

Perhaps that was one of the many things his Papa saw in the Knight with storm cloud eyes.

He was looking into those eyes at this moment, listening, taking in everything Sir Keith told him. He made sure to plant his feet, adjust his arms, square his shoulders, and tighten his grip on his sword. Sir Keith nodded his head and tapped his wooden sword to Florian’s, “Well done my Prince. Now, shall we begin to spar?”

Florian nodded and waited. Sir Keith had told him to watch his opponent, to never lose sight of what they were doing, look for the opening. So he waited and he watched. Sir Keith swung and Florian lifted the sword the two met with a resounding clack. He took a small step back but quickly planted his left foot as Sir Keith swung again. Florian had been practicing for weeks but today he saw something he never noticed. He was short, much shorter than Sir Keith so this time when he saw the swing coming he ducked and managed to come toe to tip-toe with the Knight, his own wooden sword just barely reaching to cross Sir Keith’s neck. He was grinning at the shocked look on Sir Keith’s face.

“Do you yield Sir Keith?”

With the shock finally wearing off Sir Keith let himself smile as well, “I yield.”

Florian moved his sword and couldn’t help but bounce from foot to foot, “I beat you! Did you see that Sir Keith? I beat you!”

A large hand ruffled Florian’s hair, “Yes you did. Well done my Prince.”

**Part Two – My Son:**

At sixteen years old Florian was a rebellious teenager. He pushed the boundaries by skipping his lessons, he snuck out of the castle and trekked to the nearest town and got drunk, he had a sharp tongue, and he had his Papa wrapped around every one of his fingers. But not Sir Keith, no he saw right through all of Florian’s tricks.

“I hate you! You’re not even my real dad. My papa will let me go.”

There was a moment when Florian thought he saw a flash of hurt in those dark eyes but it was gone in an instant. Instead Keith took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, “No Florian. I am not your real dad but your Papa left me in charge while he was away and you know this.”

“It’s not even dangerous! You are the one who trained me. I can hunt and fight just as well as any Blade member and you know it.”

Keith placed his hands on Florian’s shoulders, “It is not a question of your skill. You know the hunt is only for those over the age of eighteen and you are not of age.”

Florian jerked away from Keith, “I hate you! I never want to speak to you again. I wish my Papa never married you.”

Three nights later Florian was regretting ever sneaking out to join the hunt. He had managed to find a wild boar and one of its tusks found its way into his leg and slashed his side. And to top it all off it had started snowing. He could only lay there on the hard ground shivering, bleeding out and crying. His vision was going spotty and he was seeing dancing lights. Those lights turned dark blue, like the color of dark storm clouds and a tear streaked face came into view.

Florian let out a weak sob as gentle hands cupped his face, “I found you, you’re okay. Oh, my son. My sweet son you’re okay. Let’s get you home.”

He doesn’t remember much other than a lot of pain as his wounds were tended, someone screaming, and the god awful chill that had his teeth chattering. Through it all he had a grip on something soft, Sir Keith’s cloak and he wouldn’t let go. There was a brief moment of panic when Sir Keith moved away and then he was back with gentle hands and a sudden warmth. He was wrapped in that same soft cloak and the familiar smell of Sir Keith.

“Florian, son, I’m going to lift you up. It’s going to hurt quite a bit but I’m going to be as careful as possible. We have to get you home and warm as soon as possible.”

Florian felt his head flop on a familiar sturdy chest and strong arms wrapped around his shoulder. He was slowly losing consciousness.

“Keith let me take him.”

“Shiro, we both know my horse is faster and time is of the essence.”

“You won’t be able to hold him and ride at full speed.”

“I will do whatever I have to for my son.”

There was lot of jostling around and Florian couldn’t hold back the scream of pain when he was lifted back into Keith’s arms. He could already tell this was going to be painful. A strong arm wrapped around him and just before they took off he heard Keith’s voice in his ear, “I’ve got you my son.”

Florian woke up with a gasp. He was surrounded by warm blankets, the sound of a fire crackling in the distance and a sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds but what woke him was the nightmare. He had the same one once before but this time instead of his Mama or his Papa, this time it was Sir Keith on that bed and no one there holding his hand. He sat up and winced at the pull in his side. He must have been out for a couple of days judging by the bandages. There were soft voices outside of his doorway and he heard his Papa and Sir Keith. He also remembered the last thing he said.

_“I hate you! I never want to speak to you again. I wish my Papa never married you.”_

Florian gritted his teeth and slid out from under the covers. He bit back a cry of pain as his feet hit the cold floor. The nightmare and those words replaying over and over gave him the fortitude to fight through the pain. He opened the door and pushed past his Papa standing there.

“Florian, you should be in bed resting.”

“Your highness, you are not healed.”

“Florian, where are you going?”

Florian kept walking. It was a slow trek but he finally made it to his Papa’s room where he knew Sir Keith would be. As soon as he pushed the door open Keith was standing before him, those same gentle hands cupping his face. “Florian. What happened? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t speak. He could only clutch at the soft fabric of Keith’s sleep shirt and rest his head on Keith’s chest. He finally managed to choke out two words, “I’m sorry.”

Keith wrapped his arms around Florian and held his head against his chest, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Florian let out a choked sob and shook his head. He had to make him understand, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t hate you. Please don’t leave me, don’t leave my Papa because I said I hated you. I’m sorry.”

Keith led Florian to the large bed that he shared with Lance and laid him back against a large mound of pillows. He sat next to Florian and pushed his hair from his face, “Do you know how much I love you and your Papa? You are the two most important people in my life. I know you are not mine, but I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood. I love you more than you could ever possibly imagine Florian. I know you said those words out of anger and hurt but I would never leave your Papa. I would never leave you.”

Florian ducked his head and sniffed. He lifted a hand to wipe at the tears on his face. His voice was only a whisper, “I’m still sorry. I love you dad.”

Keith pulled Florian to his side and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “I love you too my son.”

**Part Three – My King:**

Florian sits by the bed and holds a frail hand in his own strong hands. He listens as the breathing grows shallow and fights to maintain his composure. His head bows and rests against the once strong chest of his Papa and he feels an equally frail hand lift to card wrinkled fingers through his hair one last time. His ear is just resting over an ever weakening heart beat but he can’t bear to lift his head for fear of missing another one.  He feels his own heart stop as the heart beneath him no longer beats, as the chest no longer rises to take another breath, as he feels those fingers fall limp and cease to move through his hair. And when his heart starts to beat again the tears fall fast and achingly furious. The sobs rip from his throat even as his own heart threatens to shatter into a million irreparable pieces.

Five days later and Florian stands before the people of Oceana. Even though the sky is bright, even though the sound of the waves lapping lazily at the shore sounds in the distance, and even though every flower in his favorite garden is in colorful bloom he only feels a dull grey lifelessness about him. He walks to the edge of the balcony and hears the people cheer even though he knows their hearts are just as broken as his for the loss of their King. The people of Oceana, his people, are dressed in the traditional black for mourning. Instead of the customary ten days they will mourn for twenty, ten for both of the great men they lost.

_“Florian, you need to eat.”_

_“I’m not hungry.”_

_A hand rests on Florian’s head, “You need to be strong to rule your people.”_

_Florian looks up, “Dad, you’re the next in line after Papa.”_

_Keith just smiles softly, “I am too old to rule over a kingdom son. You will be better suited for it than I ever will.”_

_The pair just sit in silence, Florian has his head resting on Keith’s shoulder. Neither of them have the heart to leave Lance’s side. Neither of them want to leave their Papa, their husband, the person who ruled the kingdom with love in his heart. Keith pressed a kiss to Florian’s head, “If you won’t eat will you at least go to the kitchen and bring me back one of those cookies?”_

_Florian let out a snort. “Of course.”_

_Just as Florian stood to leave Keith grabbed his hand, “Your Papa would be so proud of you. And I am honored to call you my King.”_

_Florian bent down and kissed his dad’s head, “I’ll be right back.”_

_When Florian returned he found his dad lying next to his papa, hands intertwined. He didn’t have to place his hand on his dad’s chest to know, he didn’t have to run a hand over his face to feel the cooling skin beneath his fingers, he didn’t have to wonder why his dad sent him on a useless mission for a cookie. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his dad would follow so soon after his papa. Their hearts and their love for each other was so entangled that it was only fitting that one would not be able to live without the other._

As Florian stared out over the kingdom that was now his to rule, he wondered if his dad had known how fitting it would be that the last two words he said to his son would be those proclaiming him as a king. He placed a fist over his heart and bowed his head to the cheers of his people as they shouted as one:

“Long Live King Florian!”

There was a soft touch to his wrist and Florian looked down. Suddenly he was no longer standing on the balcony. Instead he was surrounded by rubble and his son and daughter were watching him. Kit tapped his wrist again, “Who is this Papa?”

Florian sat on the ground and pulled Kit into his lap, “This is your grandfather Keith.”

Kit’s eyes widened and he traced a finger over the face staring back at him, “This is who you and mama named me after?”

Florian smiled, “Yes we did. Sir Keith, first Knight and protector of Prince Lance and later first Knight and protector of Prince Florian.”

Lessana smiled, “That was you papa! Prince Florian!”

Kit stood up, “Is he the same Sir Keith you tell us stories about at bed time?”

“He is.”

Kit grinned, “I’m gonna be just like him when I grow up.”

Florian stood up and watched as Kit and Lessana ran out the door. When they were out of sight Florian turned to the portrait of a young man in the uniform of the royal guard. “My son Keith Alejandro wants to be just like you dad. I hope you know if he does succeed to become like you I will be honored one day when I get to call my own son ‘My King.’”

 

 


End file.
